


Good Dog

by ThayerKerbasy



Series: A Man and His Dog [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Post-Episode: s08e14 Trial and Error, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 18:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/pseuds/ThayerKerbasy
Summary: Crowley was having the longest stretch of bad days.  The Winchesters had half of the demon tablet and the prophet to translate it, rumour had it that the nastiest Knight of Hell had somehow returned, and worst of all, that gangling moose of a Winchester had gutted his dog.  Fortunately, Crowley knew just what to do.





	Good Dog

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere around s08e15, before any of the events in the rest of this series. Think of it as a prequel, if you will.

Crowley sat in his office listening to one of his subjects whine. Something about “why should regular demons have to abide by crossroad demon ethics?” as if he cared about the opinion of one whiny demon. They were all complete and utter morons who didn’t think about anything more complicated than wreaking untargeted pain and havoc in the hopes of making someone else as miserable as them. Boo hoo. He had been tortured for decades as well, but you didn’t see him ignoring common sense in favour of paying it forward.

It was one of those days when he felt like the only demon capable of intelligent thought. The signs were right there for anyone to read if they felt like looking. The Winchesters had their hands on both their half of the demon tablet and the prophet to decipher it, and rumour had it that the bitchiest Knight of Hell had made her loud and angry return. It should have been enough to make any demon with half a brain at least a little nervous.

On top of all that, Winchester jumbo size had killed Crowley’s favourite hellhound. Not that any of his subjects gave one flying fig about their own ‘hounds, let alone his. The black-eyed bastards saw them as little more than another tool in their arsenal. No, he couldn’t allow any of them to see his grief, but they should have at least realized that something was amiss. Sam and Dean didn’t go looking for hellhounds — especially when killing the ‘hound didn’t save the soul destined for damnation — they killed demons. 

The whole thing smacked of something to do with the demon tablet. He had assigned as many of his people as he could spare to Winchester recon duty, but thus far none of them had reported anything useful.

“Majesty?” The whiny demon’s voice broke through Crowley’s introspection.

With a sigh, Crowley focused on the moron of the moment. “What? Are you about done?”

“Yes, sir. That is, I finished talking and I was hoping you’d—”

“Look the other way while you run rampant?” replied Crowley. “While the Winchesters and their pet angel have the Word of God _and_ the prophet to translate it? When said Word of God is _specifically_ about demons? You want permission to behave like a _bunch_ of college frat boys while the two who _stopped the bloody Apocalypse hold our FATES IN THEIR HANDS_?”

“Yes, your majesty,” the idiot stammered. “I mean, no, your majesty. Obviously that’s—”

Crowley couldn’t sit through another minute of it. He couldn’t believe he’d let them waste so much of his valuable time when he could have been doing something far more important. Sweeping the brainless twit out of his way with a negligible use of his powers, Crowley stood and waited until the dimwit took the hint and left.

Once his office was empty, he strode into the hall. “Audiences are done for today. I’m sure you all have something important you should be doing. Go do it.”

Demons scrambled to get out of his way as he strode out of the office and into the hall. Good. Fear meant respect. It was too much to hope for intelligent thought, but maybe they’d finally follow their orders without so many stupid objections.

He walked away from all of them towards nothing in particular, but with a specific destination in mind. It had been a long day, and he knew exactly what he needed. When he was finally alone, he teleported directly to Hell as only its king could.

Crowley had a secret.

It was something known only to one other demon, and that one had sworn never to tell another twisted soul on pain of eternal torment. Crowley had put far too much effort into remaking himself into someone respectable for one little secret to bring it all crashing down.

He stepped into Hell’s kennels and was immediately swarmed by small, furry hellhound pups, only half corporeal at best, but barking just as enthusiastically as any so-called “normal” dog. The little nippers were only tall enough to reach up to his knee by jumping. When they couldn’t touch him, they quickly turned to wrestling with each other — that is, all but one. One pup jumped up, front paws on his leg like it was trying to climb him.

Picking up the determined little mini ‘hound required focus, but once he had it in his hands, he was able to support it with little difficulty. Looking into its burning hellfire eyes probably should have been a terrifying experience for most, but Crowley couldn’t help but smile. The day he had first picked up a wee little hellbeast was a hazy memory — centuries ago by surface time, let alone much slower Hell time — but that instant connection to another living thing felt exactly the same.

The pup was doing its best to try to lick Crowley’s hand when the kennel master strode over, likely called by the noise his charges were making. Covered in ash from the kennel’s fires, Connall was responsible for the care and feeding of any ‘hound too young to be bonded or too injured to hunt, and had been a permanent fixture in the kennels since before Crowley became a demon.

“My king!” said Connall. “I did not expect you for some time yet. Have you chosen a ‘hound then?”

“It appears this one has chosen me,” replied Crowley.

Connall grinned. “She has chosen well. As always, I will care for her here when you are unavailable to visit, but you are responsible for her training beyond the basics.”

Crowley waved off the standard speech. “Yes yes, of course. Thing is, this isn’t exactly why I came here.”

“Ah. Been a difficult day, has it? Say no more, your usual chambers are prepared for you and stand waiting. I will see to it that you are not disturbed.”

Crowley showed his appreciation for good service with a smile and a nod, making a mental note to send the fellow something nice later. Competence in Hell was entirely too rare, and something to be encouraged.

His usual chambers referred to a closed door behind the retired ‘hounds area. Some were incapacitated with old injuries, others had lost the ability to track their prey or carry a soul, and some had only lost their master and refused to bond again. Regardless, they were all capable of breeding the next generation of ‘hounds, so they remained in relative comfort in the kennels.

Threading a path between the lounging old dogs meant dodging many happily wagging tails. Many of them stood on stiff previously-broken legs to follow him, but some were content with a pat on the head as he passed. He didn’t stop any of them from following.

The door was sealed with a spell to which only he and Connall had the key. Reaching between two ‘hounds standing directly in front of the door, Crowley unlocked it to let them in. As soon as the door swung open, the ‘hounds in front of him surged into the room to be the first to claim a spot on the bed that took up the entire room. It was little more than a collection of mattresses on the floor covered in many sheets and blankets, but it was better than any luxury suite to Crowley, entirely due to the company.

Waiting until the last ‘hound entered the room, he closed and sealed the door behind them. When he turned around, he was greeted with a literal dogpile, all waiting for him. The pup he carried had been so well-behaved, but her not-quite-corporeal tail occasionally manifested enough to thwack his arm, betraying her excitement. He set the tiny pup down with one of the older ‘hounds he could trust to watch her for a moment.

Far be it from Crowley to deny them what they all wanted. Taking off his suit jacket, he hung it on a hanger left there for precisely that purpose. His trousers were also hung up neatly, so he wouldn’t ruin his suit. Then, finally comfortable, he joined the sprawling heap of hellhounds, casually shoving them out of the way so he could get under a blanket.

Not a single ‘hound protested, instead waiting for him to get comfortable before they all curled up as close to him as possible. Some lay with their back to him, others faced him, and some rested their heads atop him, laying across other ‘hounds just to reach him. Every ‘hound in the room cuddled up close, exactly as they did every time he came to visit, and as always, something warm and soft bloomed in him, struggling to be recognized as a sort of feeling.

The little pup who had chosen him picked her way through the sea of warm bodies until she was finally able to curl up against his cheek. Turning his head, Crowley came nose to nose with her. “I think it only fair to warn you, my last dog was killed while doing his job.”

Scrunching up her face like she was concentrating very hard, the pup licked his nose, her small tongue warm, and wet. She then let her tongue loll out, pleased with herself.

Despite himself, Crowley smiled and reclaimed an arm long enough to pat her and ruffle her ears. “I think I’ll call you Juliet.”

**Author's Note:**

> It's Coldest Hits time again! This month's theme was [Guilty Pleasures](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/171871531869/spncoldesthits-guilty-pleasures-march-prompt). The title of this fic is mostly because I'm hoping for bonus points, but it does work in a way.
> 
>  ~~Rather than leaving kudos, you should definitely go and read[all the other stories about guilty pleasures](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SPNColdestHits) and give them kudos instead. I'm sure they'll love it. (And if you really want to leave me kudos, come back and click that button on March 24th when the competition is over.)~~ Coldest Hits for March is now over and I would love to have all your kudos.


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